Lost And Found
by Rocky T
Summary: coda to season 6 "Good Shepherd"


_Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and all of its characters belong to Paramount. Details about Janeway's early career, including the character of Admiral Laurel, are the creations of m.c. moose and are included with her permission._

_Story Notes: Oh, come on, do you really think Janeway got lost on Deck 15 in "Good Shepherd"? There's a much better explanation..._   
**LOST AND FOUND** "You really didn't need to escort me to my quarters," insisted the captain as they arrived at her door. "I'm perfectly fine." 

"So you say," Chakotay responded calmly. "But the Doctor found evidence that this wasn't the _first _blow to the head you sustained during your away mission." 

He waited patiently while she entered her access code; she suspected if she had hesitated, he would have keyed it in himself. Without waiting to be asked, he followed her in and settled himself on her couch. 

She sat down next to him and sighed softly. "So you're worried about me from a medical standpoint? Is that it?" 

Puzzled, he said, "Of course. What else could it be?" Then slowly, he smiled. "Or do you think I've got an ulterior motive?" 

She laughed. "Honestly, that never crossed my mind. I must be more tired than I thought." 

"It has been a hell of a day, hasn't it?" he said sympathetically. 

"You could say that again." 

There was a moment of easy silence between them, broken only when he said, "I'm going to kick myself later for letting the subject drop so easily, but if you weren't concerned with my 'ulterior motives', why didn't you want me to walk you home?" 

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Promise me you won't laugh." 

"You know I would never do that, Kathryn." 

"I mean it, Chakotay. Not one word, till I have your promise." 

"OK, I promise. Go ahead." 

"I was afraid you were worried I might get lost," she mumbled, not quite daring to meet his eyes. 

He promptly burst out laughing. Her sheepish expression immediately changed to one of consternation. "Chakotay!" 

"Sorry," he said, attempting to control himself, but having only limited success. She picked up a couch pillow and waved it threateningly near his head, encouraging him to redouble his efforts. When he could speak again he said, "I really am sorry, Kathryn. I didn't mean to laugh. But really, why would I think such a ridiculous thing?" 

She grudgingly put down her pillow, although she kept it close by, just in case. "I suppose you heard what happened when I went down to Deck 15 to tell Harren about the away mission." 

"No, what?" he said innocently. 

She fixed him with her captain's glare. "Come on, Chakotay. It's impossible to keep a secret on this ship. And you of all people are firmly plugged into the gossip mill." 

Conceding her point, he said, "Well, I did hear that you seemed a bit, uh, hesitant when you got off the 'lift. And you _did_ ask where Junction Room 16 was." 

She snorted. "As I stepped off the 'lift, I realized how long it'd been since I was on that deck." Her expression became thoughtful, her voice softer. "Did you know that down there, you can really feel the hum of the engines? It's very quiet; there aren't many distractions. I was thinking about all the times I'd walked through the ship's corridors... 

* * *

  
The captain stood still, her eyes closed, feeling the ship, listening to it. She had served aboard many different vessels over the years, in many different capacities. Each ship had a special "feel", a characteristic note to the vibrations and thrumming of the engines. She'd first become aware of a ship's unique "voice" during her time aboard the _Tian An Men_, when she'd been intimately involved with the day-to-day running of the engines. When she'd received her first command, she'd taken a leisurely tour of the entire vessel, pausing often to just listen. It had been a surprise to discover that the ship's voice could best be heard not from the bridge, which was its nerve center, or the engine room, its heart, but from the underbelly. The distant rumblings of the sleeping giant. 

The "Grand Tour" was a tradition she'd kept up, from the _Billings_ to the _Nobel_ to _Voyager_ itself. She'd loved those other ships, but it was nothing compared to how she felt about _Voyager_. This ship was special. 

She remembered the first time she'd seen a preliminary sketch for the proposed _Intrepid_ series. It had been a long time ago, during a stint under Admiral Laurel in the department of Starship Design and Fabrication. At that point in her career, she had already switched from science to command track and had been doing her obligatory HQ rotation. The Admiral had promised the idealistic young lieutenant that one day he'd build her a ship to take her to the stars, a promise that was finally fulfilled years later. The finished product differed from those early renderings, of course, but the "soul" of the ship had remained unchanged. Laurel had accompanied her when she boarded _Voyager_ for the first time, grinning broadly at her enthusiasm. He knew she hadn't been exaggerating when she said she spent months studying the blueprints. 

_U.S.S. Voyager_, NCC-74656. 700,000 metric tons, 15 decks and a sustainable cruising velocity of warp 9.975. Bioneural circuitry in the form of neural gelpacks to go along with the more conventional isolinear optical circuits. She had been as gleeful as a child with a brand new toy, or a young girl caught up in the heady excitement of her first crush. Hell, she'd had lovers she hadn't known as intimately as she did _Voyager_. 

If she had been infatuated with her new ship, over the past 6 years it had deepened into a more mature relationship, the love that grew out of shared experiences, and the unshakable knowledge of just what she could expect from _Voyager_ and what it expected from her in return. In her heart, she thought of the ship as an integral part of her crew. In her heart of hearts, it was part of _her_. Every time she had threatened to blow up the ship in the face of enemy threats (and there had been too many of those occasions, especially during their first two years in the Delta Quadrant), every time the crew had forcibly separated from _Voyager_ (and again, this had happened way too often during their early years), she had felt like part of her own body was amputated. Jim Kirk's connection with the original _Enterprise _was legendary in the annals of Starfleet. She wondered if his identification even came close to how she felt about _Voyager_. 

She had walked these corridors many times over the years. In good times it had been to the Mess Hall or holodecks for special celebrations, to the Engine Room to work on exciting new theoretical forms of propulsion, to Astrometrics to study the latest celestial phenomenon. She had also rushed through them on her way to the bridge when they were under attack, or experiencing some other crisis. She had stalked these halls armed with a phaser rifle, and she had traversed them with a tricorder in hand, trying to make sense of the damage they'd sustained. Over the years, perhaps the ship had lost some of its glossiness, some of the fresh-from-the-shipyard feel it had once had. But like a human face, the lines and scars spoke of character, of a life richly lived. 

Yes, she'd walked these corridors many times, not just the main thoroughfares, but off the beaten path as well. It was not during alpha shift, however, but in the middle of ship's night, when the lights were a bit dimmer, the pace slower as most of the crew sought rest or quiet pursuits in the privacy of their quarters. In the middle of the night, when she couldn't sleep, she'd find herself drawn to the quieter sections, where the chances of running into anyone were remote, where she could relax and think and yes, commune with her ship. 

It had been a while since she had been down to Deck 15. The presence of senior staff members was rarely required on the lower decks. She found herself musing a bit about her separation from the day-to-day details of running the ship, how her orders were conveyed down the chain of command. Sitting on the bridge, she never saw or knew how many crewmen were involved in carrying out a simple command like increasing scanning resolution, or giving more power to the shields. Even if it was necessary for the smooth and efficient operation of the ship, this separation was not a good thing. Left unchecked, separation led to isolation, of the captain from the crew, and the crew from each other. That was why she was here now. 

A loud voice broke into her thoughts. "Captain on the Deck!" Damn. The crewman who'd spotted her had snapped to attention, and so had all the other figures she could see along the corridor. 

"At ease," she said, with a wave of her hand. She turned to go, then paused and really looked at the man in the gold uniform standing before her. "Crewman Mitchell, how are you?" 

"Never better, ma'am." 

She smiled, thinking about what was most likely going through his mind. Probably wondering what the captain was doing down there, so far away from the bridge. He still stood at attention, his eyes focused on her. Something compelled her to say, "Junction Room 16," as if she needed to justify her presence to him. 

"That way, Ma'am." He gestured in the direction she was going anyway, but she thanked him. 

At the end of the corridor she hesitated, considering if Crewman Harren could be found more easily in the plasma relay room, or perhaps another area. "To the left," Mitchell called after her. She suddenly wondered if he thought she was lost. 

She had a good chuckle over that one. As if she could ever be lost on board _Voyager, *_her*_ Voyager_. She knew that ship inside and out before ever setting foot on her. Well, she had come down here herself for a reason. If anyone chose to think the captain was lost, so be it. 

* * *

  
"And then you found Harren, I suppose." Chakotay stretched and made himself more comfortable, his arm draped along the top of the couch near her shoulders, his eyes darting warily to the pillow she held on her lap. 

"Oh, yes. Right as his station where he was supposed to be, even if he was working on his cosmological theories." She didn't seem to notice that his arm was getting closer. 

"It's nice to hear that he _does _know how to follow orders, at least some of them. Snotty little bastard." 

She jerked in surprise at his last words. "Chakotay! I can't believe you just said that!" 

He cursed himself for making her shift position, just when things were starting to get interesting. "Oh, come on, Kathryn, tell me you didn't notice his extremely condescending attitude. Borders on insubordination." 

"After spending 12 hours with him on the _Flyer_, I couldn't help but notice," she said dryly. "But yes, his attitude was apparent the first time he opened his mouth, right there in the plasma relay room." She leaned back against the couch, and not incidentally, his arm. 

"I'm sure," he said with a grin. "Jumped for joy at the thought of the away mission, I bet." 

She closed her eyes. "Not exactly, although his reaction was a _little_ more positive than either Telfer's or Celes'. He didn't seem petrified at the prospect, just...irritated, because I had the temerity to interrupt his 'work'." 

Chakotay said reflectively, "I'd like to lock him in a room with Seven and see how he does _mano a mano_ with her debating his precious theories. Maybe that'll bring him down a notch or two." 

Her eyes flew open again. "That's still not very nice, Chakotay," she said reprovingly. "Even if I do happen to agree with you." She sighed again and rested her head against his shoulder. 

His smile broadened. "So what _did_ Harren say when you invaded his domain?" His hand began to move slowly, rhythmically up and down her arm. 

"He actually asked me if I was lost! Can you imagine?" She glanced at his hand, but made no attempt to move away. 

"That depends," Chakotay said teasingly. "Did he offer to tell you where to go?" 

The corners of her mouth quirked up in response. "I wasn't the one who was lost, remember?" Her smile slowly faded; he could tell she was thinking just how harrowing the mission had been. "Even if some of the 'sheep' had different ideas." 

"All's well that ends well, Kathryn," Chakotay said. He noted how relaxed she was, how comfortable they both were. "And if you ever did get lost, I'd know exactly where to find you." 

"Oh, really? And where would that be?" She looked at him expectantly. 

"Right here on _Voyager_. It's a part of you, and you of it, now and forever."   
_FINIS_ Back to Rocky's Road 

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